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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367655">A Weasley Christmas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScissorKidsCult/pseuds/ScissorKidsCult'>ScissorKidsCult</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Christmas Fluff, Draco Angst, F/M, Gen, Grieving, Oneshot, Sad Christmas, Weasley Angst, dramione - Freeform, sad draco, soft angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:55:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367655</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScissorKidsCult/pseuds/ScissorKidsCult</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione takes Draco to his first Weasley Christmas in light of their new relationship. Angst, sorrow, and a little gift giving ensue.</p><p>"Hermione gripped his hand tightly as the boys sat with their gifts, uttering quiet and breathless thanks. “I told you they would like them.” Her tone was soft, but her excitement was clear. </p><p>“Shut up.” He couldn’t help but jostle his knees as the final Weasley brother opened his gift, a small envelope with a simple card tucked inside. The card itself meant nothing, it was what it held that was important. The only replica of the painting he had commissioned for Hogwarts. A portrait of the late Fred Weasley. And at the bottom a few engraved words. “Consider the Mischief of Gryffindor, Managed.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Weasley Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not beta-d, written in one evening, largely unedited.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why couldn’t we have gone with Potter and Weasley?” Draco couldn’t help but whine as the two of them hopped off the train and onto the platform. Coming with Potter and his friend would have helped distract from his obvious displacement. With just Hermione at his side he had no way to hide.</p><p>“I already told you I had something to take care of with Mcgonagall.” She wouldn’t let on that she too was nervous for Draco, it just wasn’t in her nature, but the truth was she was petrified. Draco had ruthlessly bullied all of the Weasley children, and his family tried their hardest to murder most of them. Molly herself had defended Ginny against Bellatrix. However it was also Molly who insisted Draco come along for Christmas this year.</p><p>The war had torn him away from his own family, leaving Lucius dead at the battle of Hogwarts and Narcissa to pay for her crimes as an accomplice. It had been a hard summer, and he had an even tougher time adjusting to life at Hogwarts post war, but Hermione had found him. Seen him. And when the holiday arrived, the prospect of leaving Draco alone at Hogwarts while she sought out normalcy with her friends seemed too much to bear. So here they were, walking up the path to the Weasley family home.</p><p>Draco had never been and he found himself in awe of the towering structure, with all its jutting edges and patched wood. He didn’t have time to linger on its appearance though as Hermione dragged him up to the front stoop and over the threshold. The noise was like nothing he had ever heard before, laughter and shouting throughout the house, squeals of joy ricocheting off the ceiling and stairs. Huffs and sighs could be felt sinking into the worn fabrics of the couches and chairs. Dishes clanked in the kitchen and he could hear pots and pans clinking together.</p><p>And then, following the pans, he smelled a scent more pure than any he had ever known. It was as if years of sweaty boys clothes and dirty quidditch cleats had permeated the wood. But alongside them was the faint odor of cinnamon and nutmeg, and the barely there aftertaste of a sugar cookie. And finally, amongst it all he couldn’t quite place the smell or name it either, but if pressed hard enough he would have settled on calling it homey. The Weasley burrow he decided smelled like hug from an old woman. Endearing.</p><p>His observations were again interrupted though as the family inside the house bounded towards them. Well, all but one. “Hermione darling we’re so happy to have you!” Molly’s face was bright and hopeful as she pulled the girl into a hug, covering her completely with a smothering dose of love.</p><p>“Hi Hermione!” Greetings were shouted from the group, including but not limited to a small whisper from Ginny, and a mellow accented hello from Charlies wife Fleur. The greetings died fairly quickly and soon he was standing alone in front of Molly, as Hermione had been pulled aside by Arthur for some muggle explanation.</p><p>“Come here boy, hugs for everyone, you included.” Strong arms swept him up, pulling him deep into a shoulder full of frayed wool yarn. His arms hung at his sides, as if sodden by sadness and shock.</p><p>“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Weasley.” He felt the words leave his mouth like a swallow of water being let out into a flood. It was as if a huge weight fell off and into the world, he was here, and he was welcomed.</p><p>“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now darling can I get you a cup of tea? I’m afraid the boys have eaten all the biscuits already.”</p><p>“No thanks.”

</p><p> “Right, well, Ronald will show you to your room.” She waved a hand towards her youngest son casually. “Ronald!”</p><p>His former classmate approached slowly, his steps firm as he padded across the floor. With Hermione’s bag safely in his grasp he gestured for Draco to follow behind him. The pair walked through a maze of hallways and stairs until Ron finally dropped her bag in the doorway at the end of a winding hall.</p><p>“Bathrooms down the hall, you’ll be sharing with Harry, Ginny, myself, and George. Sorry if it’s a bit drafty, dad hasn’t finished the extra rooms yet.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and retreated slowly down the hall, backing away from Draco hesitantly.</p><p>The room was draftier than Weasley had let on, but there were blankets piled high on the dresser and bed, most of them appeared to be homemade, unlike anything he had ever seen before. The bedroom was unlike his own, or at least unlike what he remembered of it. The wood on the ceiling was gray and weathered despite Weasley’s claim the room was still under construction. The furniture was strewn about haphazardly, the rug crooked, a fact his mother would have shuddered at.</p><p>He sat on the bed slowly, taking in the feeling as he sank into the lumpy mattress. Finally, after some while, he heard Hermione coming down the hallway. With a grin on her face she pranced into the room, her hands swinging at her sides.</p><p>“Arthur is such a-” Her breathless voice stopped suddenly as her eyes settled on his. With a brow raised she crossed the small room and stood in front of him, her hands now still as they clasped his.</p><p>“Arthurs a what?” He knew his mood had stopped her speaking, and he felt sorry. He couldn’t help that his upset was spelled out so clearly in every expression.</p><p>“Malfoy.”</p><p>“Granger.”</p><p>“What’s the matter.”</p><p>“Nothing. Just tired from the trip.” 

</p><p>“You’re a terrible liar, Malfoy.” Her lips curled into a smile and without thinking, so did his. He stood carefully, placing his feet just outside of hers as he pulled her into his chest.</p><p>“Am not.” He pressed a small kiss to her hair before stepped backwards slightly.</p><p>They stood in silence for a minute before she turned away, tearing off her coat and scarf, tossing them carelessly onto the bed as she headed for the door. “Awfully chilly in here.” He hummed in agreement as he followed her into the hall. Their steps were small as they walked towards the voices. She held his hand tightly, his ring the only reminder of his past as it made indentations on her fingers.</p><p>Their second entrance was far less exciting, not a head turned in their direction as they sunk into a couch, right in the midst of the chatter. His mind wandered as Hermione prattled on about Hogwarts with Harry and Ron, exchanging tales about their previous months. He wondered briefly how his mother, Narcissa, was doing, and for a small moment his heart ached. The minutes blurred together as he sat patiently next to Hermione.</p><p>Dinner came quickly much to his polite delight, and he only had to answer a few questions, most of them fielded by Arthur and Molly. He was caught up in the food and decor when Arthur was finally brave enough to ask the first. “So Draco, what’s your favorite muggle invention, I reckon Hermione has shown you quite a few?” His narrow jaw wasn’t quivering but it might as well have been as the words left his mouth like a slow dribble.</p><p>“She’s got this lovely machine that makes noises while you sleep, it’s quite nice.” He set his fork down gently on the chipped china plate dinner, his eyes flitting to meet Hermione’s for a quick moment.</p><p>“Very nice, not sure she’s shown me that one yet.” They ate peacefully for a while longer as Bill and Charlie talked about work. He found it soothing when Fleur laughed at her husbands remarks, even her laugh seemed to come out like silk. The conversation shifted back and forth between Harry and Ron for a while and then for just a second, it seemed Ginny had the spotlight. It wasn’t until Molly asked Draco more than one question in a row that the mood turned sour. George Weasley stood from the table quickly, his silverware hitting his plate with a haunting sound as he pushed back his chair.</p><p>“Stop pretending he matters! He’s the reason Fred’s gone.” The lone Weasley twin looked distraught, his once vibrant face now hollow and aged. Draco could hardly choke down the sip of water stuck on his tongue as he looked down at his lap. Not a word was untrue. Fred was gone, and he was here, undeservingly so.</p><p>He felt Hermione’s hand on his knee, as if to hold him steady, but it didn’t matter, the taste in his mouth had turned rancid and metallic. He didn’t belong, and despite the kind efforts of the matriarch, he was not wanted. Carefully, he excused himself from the table and hurried down the hallway back to the safety of the bedroom.</p><p>There was a brief moment of shouting, stopped suddenly by Molly Weasley’s motherly command. And then it was quiet, and he was alone with just himself and his thoughts. He palmed a blanket delicately before lifting it and wrapping himself in it, savoring the feeling.</p><p>—————</p><p>By the time Christmas morning arrived the emotions in the house had run quiet, the shouting matches had stopped several days before. Hermione woke after him, sitting up in bed quickly, her hair wild and untamed as she leapt out of bed. They dressed in relative silence, the crisp air jarring their bones as they stripped bare. The rest of the Weasley family had been up for a while it seemed, mugs were empty on the mantle piece, and stockings empty.</p><p>“They’re awake!” Ron announced to the room, as if to signal the start of the festivities. Molly and Arthur crept into the room slowly, each toting a tray of breakfast muffins and treats. Music was put on and the group gathered in around the tree.</p><p>“Where to start, where to start.” Mrs. Weasley hummed to herself before giving them all what seemed to be a knowing look. “Not a Christmas morning without these!” A collective groan came about from the Weasley siblings as she started to hand out carefully wrapped gifts, each bearing different initial.</p><p>He waited patiently for Hermione to open hers first before he dared to tear the wrapping on his own. He felt the air leave his lungs as he realized what was inside. It was a rather large, but carefully knitted green sweater, with a large silver ‘D’ on the chest. As a child he had always received family heirlooms or traditional wizarding toys, never once could he recall a handmade gift.</p><p>“First time working with green, what do you think dear?” Molly having him a sly grin as he ran his fingers over the letter on the front.</p><p>“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”</p><p>The gifts after that were handing around rather lazily, not in any particular pattern, but Molly seemed satisfied as soon as they were all wearing their sweaters. Her favorite part of the holiday was over. Harry and Ron had each gotten him a gift, Ginny too. His happy expression subsided though when three of the Weasley siblings held his gifts in their hands. He felt bile rise in his throat as Ron cracked the box of his gift. It was a chess set, a replica actually of the one from Hogwarts.</p><p>He had never forgotten their first year, and he had never before let on just how much he had envied Ron for his foolish bravery. But here, in the safety of the Burrow, there was evidence of his admiration, and it sat in Ron’s hands. Then came Harry’s gift. A preserved basilisk fang, another symbol of his memory.</p><p>Hermione gripped his hand tightly as the boys sat with their gifts, uttering quiet and breathless thanks. “I told you they would like them.” Her tone was soft, but her excitement was clear.</p><p>“Shut up.” He couldn’t help but jostle his knees as the final Weasley brother opened his gift, a small envelope with a simple card tucked inside. The card itself meant nothing, it was what it held that was important. The only replica of the painting he had commissioned for Hogwarts. A portrait of the late Fred Weasley. And at the bottom a few engraved words. “Consider the Mischief of Gryffindor, Managed.” Personally, it meant very little, but to George, he was certain it was a symbol of his apology.</p><p>George nodded solemnly before rising from his seat, adjusting his jumper just slightly before making his exit. A few tears were shed as the gift was explained, and Molly swept Draco into another of her strong hugs before they carried on with the gift giving. And for a while, as he sat next to the only girl he had ever loved, and in the home of his former enemy, the world was quiet, and his heart beat steady with happiness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks y'all for reading, I hope I didn't make you too sad, but just now if you teared up you're not alone, I cried quite a bit writing this. Much love - M</p></blockquote></div></div>
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